THE 


CITY  OF  NEW-YORK: 


ITS 

GROWTH,  DESTINIES,  AND  DUTIES. 


A  LECTURE, 

DELIVERED  BY 

JOHN  A.  DIX, 

BEFORE  THE 

NEW-YORK  HISTORICAL  SOCIETY  AT  METROPOLITAN 
HALL,  ON  THE  6tii  DAY  OF  JANUARY,  1853. 


NEW-YORK . 
D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 

200  BROADWAY. 

1853. 


•  p.  i 


THE  CITY  OF  NEW-YORK. 



Mr.  President,  Ladies  and  Gentlemen  : 

In  the  opening  lecture  of  the  series  in  which  I  have  been 
invited  to  take  part,  you  were  addressed  with  great  eloquence 
and  force  on  the  culture  of  Art,  with  a  special  reference  to  this 
city.  So  far  as  the  application  is  concerned,  I  propose  to  fol- 
low the  example  of  the  distinguished  speaker,  but  in  a  much 
more  humble  sphere.  I  shall,  with  your  indulgence,  devote 
the  hour  allotted  to  me  to  a  brief  review  of  the  growth  of  this 
city,  some  glances  into  the  future,  to  see,  if  we  can,  what  are 
its  probable  destinies,  and  the  discussion  of  a  few  topics  of  do- 
mestic interest  and  social  duty. 

It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  that  the  Hollanders,  who 
laid  the  foundations  of  this  city,  should  have  foreseen,  more 
than  two  centuries  ago,  the  commercial  pre-eminence  to  which 
it  was  destined.  In  September  1652,  forty-three  years  after 
the  landing  of  Hendrick  Hudson,  the  directors  of  the  West 
India  Company,  in  a  letter  to  Peter  Stuyvesant,  the  Director 
General,  urged  on  him  the  importance  of  promoting  commerce 
with  the  settlers  in  New  England  and  Virginia,  by  which 
means,  they  say,  "  must  the  Manhattans  prosper,"  and  their 
trade  and  navigation  flourish.  "For  when,"  the  letter  adds, 
"these  once  become  permanently  established — when  the  ships 
of  New  Netherland  ride  on  every  part  of  the  ocean — then  num- 
bers, now  looking  to  that  coast  with  eager  eyes,  will  be  allured 
to  embark  for  your  island."  If  these  sagacious  adventurers 
could  have  looked  forward  to  the  changes  which  the  lapse  of 
two  hundred  years  has  wrought,  their  language  could  hardly 


4 


have  been  more  prophetic  or  descriptive  of  the  reality.  Great 
discoveries,  it  is  true,  have  been  made  in  the  application  of 
physical  powers  to  the  practical  uses  of  mankind,  which  were 
not,  at  that  day,  revealed  to  human  foresight.  The  luxuries 
which  always  follow  in  the  train  of  commerce,  the  resistless 
power  of  our  enterprise,  the  manifestations  of  industry  in  an 
endless  variety  of  forms — the  genius,  with  which  architecture 
has  elaborated  this  hall — all  denote  a  spirit  of  development  in 
civilization  and  in  art,  which  no  vividness  of  the  imagination 
would  have  attributed,  even  at  this  day,  to  the  wilderness,  on 
the  skirts  of  which  that  feeble  and  precarious  lodgment  had 
been  made. 

Indeed,  it  was  not  until  the  United  States  had  thrown  off 
the  colonial  shackles,  by  which  the  spirit  of  their  enterprise 
was  repressed,  and  the  central  government  had  given  strong 
evidence  of  its  ability  to  sustain  the  weight  of  the  system  it 
was  designed  to  uphold,  that  the  elements  of  this  city's  growth 
became  fully  developed.  Since  that  time  its  progress  has  had 
no  parallel  in  the  history  of  modern  improvement. 

Fifty  years  ago,  Canal-street  was  entirely  beyond  the  set- 
tled precincts  of  the  city.  The  place  of  public  execution  was 
in  Franklin-street,  selected,  as  all  such  theatres  of  the  ven- 
geance of  the  law  were  at  that  day,  on  account  of  its  distance 
from  the  abodes  of  the  people,  and  the  busy  haunts  of  com- 
merce and  industry.  Thirty  years  ago,  the  spot  on  which  I 
stand,  was  an  unoccupied  space  far  from  the  bustle  and  the 
activities  of  the  town.  Now  at  least  eight  of  the  twenty-two 
square  miles  of  surface  which  the  island  contains,  are  covered, 
the  population  has  risen,  in  half  a  century,  from  60,000  souls 
to  550,000,  and  is  increasing  with  augmenting  rapidity.  A 
quarter  of  a  century  ago,  in  a  pamphlet,  which  I  wrote  while 
a  student  at  law,  on  the  resources  of  the  city  of  New-York,  I 
expressed  the  belief  that  in  1878,  twenty-five  years  hence,  the 
inhabitants  would  number  nearly  a  million  and  a  half,  and 
that  the  whole  island  would  be  covered  with  dwellings,  and 
buildings  devoted  to  trade,  the  mechanic  arts  and  the  various 
other  uses,  which  a  large  commercial  population  requires. 

The  estimate  'was,  by  most  persons,  thought  extravagant 
at  the  time  it  was  made,  and  was,  by  many,  derided  as  a  wild 


5 


and  unwarrantable  speculation.  And  yet  it  has  been  thus  far 
outrun  by  the  progress  of  the  city.  All  past  estimates,  how- 
ever unsupported  they  may  have  appeared  to  be  by  sober 
calculations,  are  mere  laggards  in  the  race,  which  we  are  run- 
ning against  time  and  the  impediments  to  human  progress. 
It  is  not  probable  that  I  shall  live  to  see  my  prophecy  fulfilled, 
but  there  are,  no  doubt,  many  within  the  sound  of  my  voice 
who  will.  Setting  apart  the  spaces  needed  for  squares,  reser- 
voirs, railway  appurtenances,  shops,  warehouses,  manufacto- 
ries, and  public  edifices,  and  the  island  will  not  conveniently 
contain  more  than  a  million  and  a  half  of  people.  But  this  is 
by  no  means  the  limit  to  its  growth.  Its  population  will  flow 
into  surrounding  spaces.  The  process  has  already  commenced. 
It  has  crossed  the  East  Eiver,  the  North  Kiver,  and  the  Har- 
lem. Brooklyn,  Williamsburgh,  Jersey  City,  and  Morrisania, 
are  all  dependencies  of  the  great  metropolis,  and  for  ev^  ry 
practical  purpose,  parts  of  it.  A  circle  with  a  radius  of  four 
miles  in  extent,  and  with  its  centre  at  Union  Square,  will  now 
inclose  seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  people.  If  the 
population  of  the  city  and  the  surrounding  districts  referred 
to  increases  as  rapidly  during  the  next  twenty-eight  years,  as 
it  has  during  the  last  twenty-five,  it  will  number  in  1865,  a 
million  and  a  half  of  souls,  and  in  1880  three  millions. 

If  our  peaceful  relations  with  other  countries  continue  un- 
interrupted, I  see  no  reason  why  there  should  be  any  check 
to  this  increase.  The  rapid  improvement  of  the  country,  the 
extension  of  our  commerce,  the  tide  of  immigration,  the  num- 
berless lines  of  communication  pointing  to  this  city  as  to  a 
centre  of  radiation  —  all  combine  to  confirm,  and,  indeed,  to 
accelerate  its  growth.  In  the  pamphlet  referred  to,  published 
in  1827, 1  remember  to  have  stated  that  the  inhabitants  of  the 
States  of  New- York,  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Illinois,  and  of  the 
territory  of  Michigan,  whose  industry  was  subservient  to  the 
commercial  interests  of  the  city,  and  dependent  on  it  for  for- 
eign products,  numbered  nearly  a  million  and  a  half  of  souls ; 
and  I  estimated  that  the  number  would,  in  1849,  amount  to 
nearly  three  millions,  and  in  1878,  to  more  than  five  millions 
and  a  half.  This  estimate  also  has  already  been  vastly  ex- 
ceeded by  the  result.    Taking  the  same  basis,  modified  by 


6 

the  railway  communications,  which  have  been  opened  to  the 
city,  and  the  population  of  interior  districts  now  dependent 
upon  us  for  their  commercial  supplies,  cannot  number  less 
than  five  millions  and  a  half — about  equal  to  the  number 
estimated  for  the  year  1878.  We  are  a  quarter  of  a  century 
in  advance  of  this  estimate,  and  with  no  apparent  limit  to  the 
growth  of  the  districts  thus  connected  with  us.  This  extra- 
ordinary extension  of  the  internal  trade  of  the  city  is  due,  in 
some  degree,  to  railways,  which  did  not  enter  into  the  esti- 
mate of  its  increase  twenty-five  years  ago,  because  they  had 
not  then  been  introduced  into  this  State.  Our  communication 
with  Lake  Erie,  and  the  agricultural  supplies  it  receives  from 
the  Northwestern  States,  is  now  more  speedy  and  more  cer- 
tain than  our  intercourse  was  with  Dutchess  county  fifty  years 
ago.  Five  hundred  miles  are  now  more  easily  and  speedily 
overcome,  both  as  regards  travel  and  transportation,  than 
fifty  miles  were  at  the  commencement  of  the  present  century, 
One  of  the  practical  effects  of  these  facilities  of  intercourse  is 
to  place  the  products  of  the  interior  of  this  State  and  of  the 
States  I  have  referred  to  at  the  very  outskirts  of  the  city,  and 
to  bring  the  immense  variety  of  the  products  of  other  coun- 
tries, which  centre  here,  into  virtual  contact  with  the  inte- 
rior. 

Who  shall  venture  to  assign  limits  to  this  extension  ? 
London,  with  far  inferior  capacities  for  commerce,  foreign  or 
domestic,  has  a  population  of  two  millions  and  a  half,  spread 
over  a  surface  of  forty  square  miles.  With  the  further  advan- 
tage, which  New- York  possesses,  as  a  general  mart,  to  some 
extent,  for  the  whole  Union,  there  is  no  reason  why  she  may 
not  go  far  beyond  the  British  metropolis. 

There  is  another  element  which  is  destined  to  exert  a 
powerful  influence  on  her  growth.  By  means  of  the  ware- 
house system,  yet  in  its  infancy,  she  is  rapidly  becoming  a 
mercantile  depot  for  the  western  hemisphere.  The  foreign 
products,  which  are  destined  for  consumption  on  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic,  will  be  deposited  here  for  distribution,  and  thus 
put  largely  in  requisition  our  industry  and  capital. 

This  accumulation  of  men  and  of  commercial  wealth  must 
bring  with  it  another  consequence  of  equal  significance  and 


7 


efficacy.  New- York,  with  all  these  advantages,  cannot  fail 
to  become,  at  no  distant  day,  the  centre  of  the  pecuniary,  as 
well  as  the  commercial,  exchanges  for  this  continent,  and  per- 
haps,  for  the  world.  Such  a  consequence  is  almost  insepara- 
ble  from  a  decided  ascendency  in  commerce.  Money,  the  in- 
strument of  commerce,  naturally  flows  into  the  channels'  where 
commercial  operations  are  most  extended  and  active.  The  pre- 
cious  metals  of  California  will  not  only  insure,  but  must  hasten 
this  result.  Like  the  products  of  foreign  industry,  they  will 
come  here  for  distribution,  stimulating  our  enterprise  and 
facilitating  commercial  exchanges, 

I  am  sure  I  speak  the  sentiments  of  every  person  here 
present  when  I  say,  that  the  great  prosperity  of  our  own  city 
has  not  made  us  indifferent  to  that  of  others.  Boston,  Phila- 
delphia,  Baltimore,  Charleston,  and  New  Orleans,  have  their 
commercial  offices  to  perform  in  their  respective  spheres,  and 
there  is  work  enough  to  be  done  on  this  continent  to  keep  us 
all  actively  and  beneficially  employed.  When  the  census  of 
1850  apprised  us  that  our  industrious  and  energetic  neighbor. 
Philadelphia,  numbered  over  four  hundred  thousand  inhabit- 
ants, and  was  following  us  closely  in  enterprise  and  wealth, 
I  am  sure  there  was  no  other  feeling  but  of  gratification 
at  her  prosperity.  Between  Pennsylvania  and  New- York 
there  must  always  be  a  close  and  familiar  association.  We 
border  on  each  other  for  a  distance  of  more  than  three  hum 
dred  miles.  Though  our  interests  are  not  in  all  respects  the 
same,  they  are  coincident  in  some  remarkable  particulars. 
Indeed,  there  is,  in  one  respect,  so  striking  an  adjustment  of 
her  capabilities  to  our  wants,  that  there  never  can  be,  in  the 
commercial  relations  of  the  two  States,  any  other  rivalry  than 
an  honorable  and  beneficial  competition.  I  refer  to  the  inex- 
haustible and  inestimable  wealth  of  her  coal  fields,  which  are 
indispensable  to  the  prosperity  of  our  commercial  metropolis, 
Not  only  the  city  of  New- York,  but  a  large  number  of  our 
counties,  with  a  population  of  a  million  and  a  half  of  souls, 
and  increasing  rapidly,  are  dependent  on  her  supplies  of  fuel 
for  their  comfort.  It  is  a  curious  fact,  that  the  instant  we 
reach  the  northern  boundary  of  Pennsylvania  from  her  inte- 
rior, the  coal  measures  disappear !    Not  a  trace  of  this  great 


8 


article  of  necessity  is  to  be  found  on  our  side  of  the  line. 
What  makes  it  more  singular  is,' that  this  boundary  is  a  mere 
statistical  demarcation,  not  marked  out  by  any  great  natural 
division  —  not  following  a  water  course,  or  a  mountain  chain, 
but  traversing  both  rivers  and  hills  by  a  line  drawn  parallel 
to  the  equator.  May  we  not  regard  it  as  one  of  those  arrange- 
ments of  Providence,  which,  in  our  ignorance  or  our  presump- 
tion, we  are  too  apt  to  ascribe  to  blind  chance  ?  I  say,  may 
we  not  regard  it  as  an  arrangement  of  Providence  to  bind  in- 
separably to  each  other  these  two  great  States  (constituting, 
as  they  do,  the  heart  of  the  American  Confederacy),  and  to 
give  them  the  influence  they  may  possibly  need,  in  the  pro- 
gress of  events,  to  maintain  the  integrity  of  the  Union,  by 
holding  together  in  the  same  bonds  of  friendship  the  other 
associated  States  ? 

Heavy  responsibilities,  grave  questions  of  social  and  do- 
mestic duty,  grow  out  of  our  commercial  pre-eminence.  Ex- 
traordinary aggregations  of  wealth,  unless  rightly  employed, 
are  never  desirable.    "When  they  become  the  ministers  of 
luxury  and  extravagance,  they  misdirect  industry,  pervert 
the  public  taste,  and  endanger  the  purity  of  society  and  the 
safety  of  the  government.    This  is  the  great  danger  we  have 
to  guard  against.    It  is  the  greater  because  the  chief  security 
of  our  free  institutions  has  always  been  deemed  to  rest  essen- 
tially upon  the  maintenance  of  a  simple  and  economical  gov- 
ernment.   I  do  not  believe  it  to  be  possible  for  such  a  gov- 
ernment to  be  continued  in  existence  for  any  length  of  time, 
unless  the  social  spirit  conforms  to  it.    A  luxurious  and  ex- 
travagant people  cannot  maintain  a  simple  and  frugal  govern- 
ment.  No  matter  with  what  safeguards  it  may  be  surrounded ; 
they  will  be  silently  relaxed  until  they  conform  to  the  social 
condition  of  the  people.    Private  profusion  comes  first,  next 
corporate  recklessness  and  extravagance,  and  last  of  all  public 
corruption.    This,  then,  is  the  great  duty  which  devolves  on 
us — to  make  the  spirit  of  the  social  conform  to  the  political 
organization,  and  maintain  both  in  simplicity  and  econo- 
my.   I  know  it  is  a  very  difficult  duty  where  wealth  abounds, 
and  draws  after  it  the  temptations  to  profuse  expenditure,  with 
which  it  is  always  beset.   But  let  us  hope  that  it  is  not  impos- 


9 


sible.    Certainly,  the  most  superficial  view  of  our  social  orga- 
nization should  be  sufficient  to  indicate  the  folly  of  all  private 
extravagancies,  which  partake  of  the  character  of  permanent 
investments.    The  most  common  manifestation  of  lavish  ex- 
penditure at  the  present  moment,  is  in  costly  private  dwellings. 
We  have,  like  Genoa,  our  streets  of  palaces,  but  without  her 
apology  for  them.    We  have  no  orders  of  nobility,  no  per- 
manent estates  to  support  large  establishments.    Private  for- 
tunes are  exceedingly  evanescent  with  us.    The  regular  ope- 
ration of  our  laws  is  to  dissolve  the  accumulations  of  wealth 
which  are  the  fruit  of  successful  enterprise.    There  are  very 
few  instances  in  which  property  remains  in  a  family  beyond 
the  second  or  third  generation.     Our  forefathers  abolished 
rules  of  primogeniture,  because  they  considered  them  incon- 
sistent with  the  genius  of  our  institutions.    The  spirit  of  the 
community  has  conformed  to  this  view  of  social  duty,  and  no 
man  thinks  of  leaving  his  property  by  will  (as  he  may)  to  one 
child,  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  up  a  large  establishment.  A 
juster  feeling  has  become  universal,  and  children  are  endowed 
equally  with  the  ancestral  goods,  or  at  least  in  proportion  to 
their  respective  claims  or  merits,  as  the  ancestor  appreciates 
them.    Under  these  circumstances,  nothing  can  be  more  un- 
wise than  the  erection  of  costly  dwellings,  which  can  only  be 
maintained  by  princely  fortunes.    At  the  death  of  the  head 
of  the  family,  and  the  division  of  the  ancestral  property,  no 
one  of  the  children,  as  a  general  rule,  has  enough  to  support 
the  establishment,  and  it  passes  into  other  hands.  Nothing 
can ~be  more  unjust  to  children  than  to  bring  them  up  with 
expectations,  which  cannot  be  fulfilled,  or  with  habits  of  life, 
which  they  are  compelled  to  abandon.    The  parent,  for  the 
sake  of  a  few  years  of  ostentation,  invests  a  large  portion  of 
his  estate  in  a  splendid  dwelling,  with  the  certainty  that  his 
death  will  be  the  signal  for  the  expulsion  of  his  children  from 
it.    Look  for  the  splendid  mansions  of  thirty  years  ago,  and 
see  what  has  become  of  them.    Scarcely  one  remains  in  the 
family  by  which  it  was  constructed.     They  are  boarding- 
houses,  places  of  public  exhibition,  or  the  workshops  of 
fashion.    The  daughter  enters  the  house  of  which  her  father 
was  the  master,  and  chaffers  for  a  Parisian  mantilla  or  bon- 


10 


net  in  the  sacred  chamber  in  which  she  drew  her  first  breath. 
In  a  large  commercial  city,  extending  rapidly,  the  currents  of 
business  and  fashion  sometimes  change  and  bring  with' them 
these  consequences.  But  they  are  more  frequently  the  result 
of  other  causes.  They  are  generally  the  consequence  of  the 
inability  of  any  one  of  the  children  to  maintain  the  paternal 
mansion,  with  the  share  of  the  estate  which  has  fallen  to 
him. 

Under  these  social  disabilities,  no  man  of  fortune  should 
build  a  house,  which  any  one  of  his  children,  with  the  share 
of  the  property  he  is  likely  to  inherit,  will  not  be  able  to  re- 
tain. If  he  does,  the  chances  are  ten  to  one'  that  his  descend- 
ants, before  a  single  generation  shall  have  passed  away,  will 
be  compelled  to  quit  the  paternal  mansion,  and  do  violence  to 
all  the  endearing  associations,  which  connect  themselves  with 
the  family  fireside  and  the  natal  roof.  Nothing  can  be  more 
heart-sickening  if  this  necessity  is  met  with  sensibility,  or  more 
demoralizing  to  the  feelings,  if  it  is  submitted  to  with  indiffer- 
ence. It  has  sometimes  been  said  of  us  reproachfully,  that 
we  have  no  local  attachments — no  ancestral  associations,  which 
endear  to  us  the  places  occupied  by  those  who  have  preceded 
us  in  the  journey  of  life.  In  a  community  like  ours,  in  a 
state  of  rapid  progression  and  change,  and  in  which  the  philo- 
sophy of  jurisprudence  looks  to  the  distribution  rather  than 
the  accumulation  of  the  proceeds  of  labor,  local  ties  are  un- 
questionably apt  to  be  loosely  worn.  This  is  more  especially 
true  in  cities,  where  private  residences  are  often  forcibly  ex- 
pelled by  the  irresistible  encroachments  of  commerce  and 
traffic.  In  the  broader  spaces  which  the  country  affords,  there 
is  happily  room  left  for  the  sanctity  of  local  attachments,  and 
for  the  cultivation  of  those  associations,  which  cling  to  the 
spots  where  the  bones  of  our  ancestors  repose,  and  where  our 
own  eyes,  or  those  of  our  children,  first  saw  the  light. 

I  consider  it  as  one  of  the  greatest  securities  of  this  city,  so 
far  as  a  cultivation  of  the  social  affections  and  virtues  is  con-, 
cerned,  that  it  is  so  closely  connected  by  railways  with  the 
rural  districts  in  its  vicinity.  In  one  hour,  the  man  of  busi- 
ness or  the  mechanic  may  pass  from  the  close  confinement  of 
his  office,  his  counting-room,  or  his  workshop,  into  the  pure 


11 


atmosphere  of  the  country.  The  effect  of  these  facilities  is  to 
withdraw  from  the  city,  during  the  genial  seasons  of  the 
year,  a  large  portion  of  its  inhabitants — to  take  men  away 
from  the  town,  where  they  are  busy  only  with  their  own 
works,  and  place  them  where  they  must  necessarily  become 
conversant  with  the  works  of  nature  and  of  nature's  God. 
As  the  clear  atmosphere  of  the  country  is  the  best  purifier  of 
the  malaria  of  the  great  cities,  so  are  the  quietude  and  the 
simple  occupations  of  rural  life  the  most  salutary  and  efficient 
corrective  of  their  extravagancies  and  luxurious  habits.  There 
is  nothing  so  full  of  hope  and  of  promise  for  the  purity  and 
the  invigoration  of  our  social  condition,  as  the  growing,  T 
might  almost  say  the  prevailing,  disposition  to  escape  from  the 
bustle,  the  show  and  the  ceremoniousness  of  the  city,  as  soon 
as  the  genial  season  returns,  and  take  refuge  from  them  all  in 
the  quietude,  the  simplicity  and  the  freedom  of  the  country. 
Indeed,  large  numbers  of  the  working  classes  have  made  per- 
manent changes  in  their  homes.  No  one  can  go  from  the 
city  on  any  of  the  great  railroads  terminating  here,  without 
being  struck  with  the  number  of  villages,  which  have  sprung 
into  life  within  the  last  three  years.  They  consist,  for  the  most 
part,  of  cottages,  each  with  its  little  garden  and  grassplot, 
with  here  and  there  a  larger  enclosure  answering  better  to  the 
designation  of  a  field.  These  new  creations  are  the  work  of 
the  mechanics  of  the  city,  who  have  wisely  exchanged  close 
streets  and  crowded  dwellings,  where  space  and  pure  air  are 
alike  unattainable,  for  rural  habitations  where  they  can  enjoy 
both.  They  have  their  schools  and  churches  and  their  quiet 
neighborhoods,  where  their  children  may  be  brought  up  with- 
out being  exposed  to  the  contaminations  of  the  town.  What 
an  improvement  is  this  upon  the  former  estate  of  the  indus- 
trious man — upon  summer  evenings  in  town,  when  the  labors 
of  the  day  were  over,  passed  in  close  apartments  rarely  visited 
by  a  breath  of  pure  air,  or  upon  side- walks,  with  pavements 
and  brick  walls  sending  out  in  fiery  streams  the  heat  they  had 
accumulated  while  the  sun  was  upon  them !  Now  a  railway 
takes  him  from  his  rural  home  in  the  morning  to  his  work  in 
town,  and  after  his  ten  hours  of  labor,  he  returns  to  his  home 
again,  and  passes  what  remains  of  daylight  in  his  garden,  or 


12 


sits  down  with  his  family  at  his  own  porch,  with  the  bosom  of 
his  mother  earth  unveiled  before  him,  and  with  the  shrubs 
and  flowers  he  has  planted,  sending  out  freshness  and  fra- 
grance to  soothe  and  invigorate  him  for  the  labors  of  another 
day. 

The  healthy  influence  of  this  new  life  upon  the  mind,  the 
moral  affections  and  the  physical  energies  of  the  industrious 
classes,  is  beyond  all  power  of  appreciation. 

To  the  man  of  independent  circumstances,  who  can  afford 
to  have  a  house  in  town,  and  another  in  the  country,  a  simi- 
lar change  of  life,  for  a  portion  of  the  year  at  least,  would  be 
equally  beneficial,  under  all  its  moral  as  well  as  its  physical 
aspects.  It  is  the  love  for  rural  scenes  and  rural  occupations, 
which,  above  all  other  causes  combined,  lias  given  to  the  higher 
classes  in  England  an  intellectual  and  corporeal  vigor  un- 
known to  the  same  classes  in  most  other  countries  of  Europe. 
Where  the  country  residence  ranks  first  and  the  town  house 
second  in  the  scale  of  the  affections, — where  the  thoughts  are, 
as  it  were,  embalmed  in  the  purifying  influences  of  rural  life 
— there  is  no  danger  that  a  community  will  fall  into  decrepi- 
tude on  the  one  hand,  or  dissoluteness  on  the  other.  The 
most  seductive  capitals  and  the  most  demoralizing,  so  far  as 
all  elevation  of  thought  is  concerned,  are  those  which  concen- 
trate all  the  attractions  of  life  in  themselves,  and  where  the 
districts  by  which  they  are  surrounded  are  devoid  of  rural 
beauty. 

A  rural  residence,  if  it  be  simple  and  unpretending,  is  one 
of  the  best  moral  teachers  to  the  inhabitant  of  the  town.  If 
it  have  all  the  show  of  the  town  house,  and  the  "  pomp  and 
circumstance"  of  the  winter  are  maintained  in  summer,  he 
will  gain  little  by  the  change.  The  most  friendly  wish  to  the 
wealthy  would  be  that  every  family  might  have  its  cottage, 
where  the  ostentation  of  equipage,  the  ceremoniousness  of 
fashionable  attendance,  and  the  luxurious  habits  of  the  city, 
might  be  laid  aside  for  a  portion  of  the  year,  and  where  chil- 
dren might  be  taught  the  salutary  lesson  (a  hard  one,  when 
necessity  is  the  first  to  teach  it,)  that  the  trappings  of  artificial 
life  may  be  thrown  off  without  sacrificing  enjoyment  or  per- 
sonal dignity.    The  cost  of  half  a  dozen  city  entertainments 


13 


would  provide  such  au  establishment,  and  it  would  be  repaid 
an  hundredfold  in  health  and  intellectual  vigor. 

Nature  has  given  us  around  the  city  a  country  singularly 
varied  in  its  outline,  from  the  quiet  shores  of  the  East  Kiver 
and  the  Sound  to  the  majestic  scenery  of  the  Hudson ;  and 
with  one  half  the  expenditure  which  is  wasted  upon  frivolous 
embellishment,  it  may  in  twenty -five  years  be  made  the  most 
beautiful  suburban  district  on  the  face  of  the  globe. 

In  connection  with  this  subject,  I  cannot  forbear  to  con- 
gratulate you  on  the  marked  improvement  which  has  taken 
place  within  the  last  twenty-five  years  in  our  domestic  archi- 
tecture. The  era  of  Grecian  pediments  and  colonnades  for 
private  dwellings  is  happily  past,  and,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  to 
return  no  more.  The  substitution  of  the  Norman,  Gothic, 
modern  Italian,  and  English  cottage  styles  is  a  great  gain  both 
as  regards  convenience  and  rural  embellishment.  The  most 
simple  of  these  forms  are  always  in  best  taste.  There  is  great 
danger  of  running  too  much  into  ornament,  and  giving  a 
meretricious  cast  to  our  domestic  improvements.  While  in 
the  city  the  prevailing  tendency  to  overload  with  ornament 
literally  revels  in  stucco,  and  developes  itself  in  the  most 
unmeaning  shapes,  in  the  country  it  runs  wild  in  pinnacles, 
fantastic  vergeboards,  and  in  the  endless  foliations  and  efflores- 
cences of  the  mediaeval  styles.  All  this  is  in  the  worst  taste. 
A  chaste  simplicity  adapted  to  our  institutions,  to  the  nature 
of  our  government,  the  character  of  our  people  and  the 
equalizing  spirit  of  our  laws,  is  demanded  by  every  considera- 
tion of  congruity  and  every  dictate  of  good  sense.  It  were 
greatly  to  be  desired  that  some  architect  would  give  the  rein 
to  his  genius,  and,  rising  above  the  tyranny  of  rules,  would 
give  birth  to  an  American  style — a  style  suited  to  our  means, 
our  tastes,  our  wants,  and  the  peculiarities  of  our  climate. 
The  English  cottage  style,  the  most  picturesque  of  all  for 
rural  architecture,  would  not  be  suited  to  us  without  essential 
modifications.  We  must  have  deep  verandahs  and  protected 
attics  to  shelter  us  from  the  scorching  heat  of  our  summer 
sun.  Our  interior  arrangements  must  have  their  modifications 
also,  to  meet  peculiarities  in  our  social  condition.  No  man  is 
equal  to  the  work  who  is  not  thoroughly  imbued  with  the 


14 


spirit  of  our  system,  and  who  has  not  the  strength  to  burst 
away  from  all  the  bonds  with  which  the  Delilahs  of  fashion 
will  strive  to  fetter  his  genius  and  his  independence  of 
thought. 

There  is  one  sphere  of  embellishment  in  which  there  can 
be  no  excess — in  the  cultivation  of  trees  and  plants,  and  in 
the  enrichment  by  artificial  culture  of  the  numberless  forms 
under  which  exuberant  nature  manifests  herself  in  the  realms 
of  vegetable  life.  The  simplest  dwelling,  surrounded  by  shade 
and  verdure,  is  always  attractive.  It  is  in  these  accessories  to 
rural  architecture  that  the  great  charm  of  the  country  in  Eng- 
land consists.  Her  country  houses  are  very  rarely  faultless 
when  brought  to  the  test  of  strict  architectural  rules.  Indeed, 
they  are  often  ungraceful  in  design  and  rude  in  execution. 
But  with  the  woodbine  covering  up  the  porch,  and  the  ivy 
climbing  up  the  gable  and  the  oriel,  and  enveloping  them  in 
verdure  and  in  shade,  they  have  a  charm  which  no  others 
possess.  Such  as  these  I  should  wish  our  rural  habitations  to 
be.  Let  the  wealthy  go  forth  from  their  luxurious  city  dwell- 
ings, and  make  themselves  familiar  with  the  beauties  of  na- 
ture, while  there  is  time  left  to  enjoy  them  Let  them  busy 
themselves  in  planting  trees  around  their  rustic  abodes,  let 
them  teach  the  vine  where  to  entwine  itself,  and  the  shrub 
where  to  grow  and  to  flower.  Let  their  children  mingle  with 
them  in  these  primeval  occupations,  the  purest  and  the  most 
grateful  which  life  affords,  and  they  shall  be  stronger,  happier 
and  better  men.  Their  children  will  grow  up  with  juster 
views  of  their  responsibilities  and  duties,  with  more  vigorous 
frames  and  purer  affections,  and  with  stouter  hearts  for  the 
battle  of  life. 

No  man  can  look  out  upon  the  living  forms,  which  are 
gathering  beauty  and  strength  from  his  fostering  care,  without 
feeling  his  thoughts  elevated  and  purified.  He  knows  that 
Lis  own  hand  is  laboring  with  the  hand  of  God,  and  that  he 
himself,  though  but  a  created  being  with  limited  capacities,  is 
giving  to  the  works  of  the  Almighty,  a  beauty  and  a  grace, 
which  but  for  his  care  they  would  never  have  possessed- 
Thoughts  like  these  diminish  the  distance  between  him  and 
the  Author  of  his  existence,  and  strengthen  the  hope  that 


15 


there  may  be,  when  the  fulness  of  time  shall  come,  a  higher, 
a  closer,  and  a  holier  co-operation. 

But,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  fear  I  am  dwelling  too  long 
upon  this  branch  of  my  subject.  Before  I  resign  it,  I  cannot 
forbear  to  direct  your  attention  to  a  series  of  works  on  rural 
embellishment,  which,  by  a  painful  dispensation  of  Providence 
has  been  suddenly  brought  to  a  close.  I  mean  the  writings  of 
the  late  Mr.  Downing,  of  Newburgh.  I  know  no  works  so 
well  calculated  to  give  elevated  conceptions  of  the  dignity 
and  the  charm  of  rural  occupations — none  which  have  done 
and  are  doing  so  much  for  the  embellishment  of  our  glorious 
country.  Nor  do  I  know  any  which  teach  a  purer  morality. 
It  is  now  understood  that  another  of  the  series,  more  extended, 
and  far  surpassing  its  predecessors  in  its  eloquence,  and  the 
beauty  of  its  illustrations,  was  in  a  course  of  preparation. 
Under  any  circumstances,  the  death  of  such  a  man  is  a  public 
bereavement.  Coming  as  it  did,  it  was  still  more  deplorable. 
It  is  an  irreparable  loss.  The  country  could  better  have  spared 
more  than  one  of  its  most  distinguished  statesmen,  or  jurists, 
or  divines.  Their  places  might  have  been  supplied,  but  his 
is  not  likely  to  be  in  our  day.  It  is  only  once  in  an  age  that 
a  man  rises  up  so  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  his 
profession,  and  with  the  sacred  flame  of  art  kindled  in  his 
bosom  by  the  breath  of  Heaven. 

There  is  one  subject  of  great  interest,  which  was  briefly  re- 
ferred to  by  the  distinguished  gentleman,  who  delivered  the 
opening  lecture,  and  which,  I  am  sure  my  auditors  will  par- 
don me  for  presenting  to  them  with  greater  particularity.  It 
is  a  subject  on  which  I  have  bestowed  some  thought,  and,  in 
respect  to  which,  I  made,  a  few  years  ago,  an  attempt  (I  am 
sorry  to  say  an  unsuccessful  one)  to  enlist  the  co-operation  of 
some  of  our  wealthy  citizens.  I  mean  the  establishment  in 
this  city  of  an  American  Academy  of  Art,  the  foundation  of 
which  shall  be  a  collection  of  pictures  and  statuary  open  to 
the  public,  furnished  with  all  the  facilities  which  artists  require 
for  study  and  "improvement  in  their  professions,  and  with 
schools  of  design  for  the  gratuitous  instruction  of  young  per- 
sons without  pecuniary  means.  With  the  exception  of  a  public 
park  of  proper  extent,  I  consider  this  nearly  the  only  great 


16 


want  of  the  city,  which  can  be  supplied  by  ourselves.  Popular 
education  is  amply  provided  for  by  public  law.  The  preach- 
ing of  the  Gospel  is  extended,  by  the  unassisted  operation  of 
the  voluntary  system,  to  every  portion  of  the  city.  The  sick 
are  healed,  the  hungry  fed,  and  the  naked  clothed,  by  muni- 
ficent public  charities.  A  noble  library,  already  the  most 
valuable  in  the  world  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  volumes 
it  contains,  is  about  to  be  opened  to  the  public,  and  will  give 
to  the  name  of  Astor  a  duration  as  lasting  as  the  city  itself. 
Another  popular  institution,  designed  for  the  special  benefit 
of  the  industrious  classes,  and  endowed  with  the  same  princely 
liberality,  will  insure  to  the  name  of  Cooper  an  undying  life. 
These  institutions  are,  in  some  degree,  local,  though  they  are 
to  be  open  to  the  whole  American  public.  But  an  Academy 
of  Art,  containing  specimens  of  the  best  schools  of  painting, 
ancient  and  modern,  casts  of  ancient  statues,  and  modern  sta- 
tuary of  the  most  eminent  masters,  would  become  immediately 
a  national  institution.  It  would  make  New-York  the  empo- 
rium of  Art  for  the  western  hemisphere.  Artists  would  flock 
to  it  from  all  sections  of  the  Union,  and  from  every  portion 
of  this  continent,  and  return  to  the  study  of  nature,  with  a 
full  knowledge  of  all  that  the  genius  of  man  has  done  for  the 
perfection  of  the  processes  by  which  she  may  be  most  faith- 
fully and  feelingly  copied.  I  believe  I  may  safely  say  that  no 
country,  which  has  had  so  short  a  life  as  ours,  has  done  more 
for  art.  But  it  is  all  the  work  of  artists  themselves,  and  the 
private  encouragement  by  which  they  have  been  sustained. 
Neither  the  public  nor  the  private  wealth  of  the  country  has 
come  forward  with  any  great  or  permanent  scheme  of-endow- 
ment  for  the  encouragement  of  American  art.  It  has  strug- 
gled on  unaided,  battling  dauntlessly  with  all  the  discourage- 
ments which  have  beset  its  path — discouragements  arising 
from  the  want  of  elementary  instruction  at  home,  and  the 
rivalry  of  better  disciplined  competitors  abroad — and  yet  it 
has  gained  for  some  of  its  votaries  an  immortal  name. 

It  was  thought  that  such  an  institution  as  I  have  described, 
might  be  founded  upon  an  extended  individual  subscription. 
I  have  abandoned  all  such  hope.  It  must  be  the  work  of 
some  one  man — some  one  of  our  wealthy  and  enlightened  citi- 


17 


zens  like  Astor  and  Cooper,  who,  under  the  influence  of  a 
good  inspiration,  shall  see  in  the  accomplishment  of  a  great 
public  work  for  the  benefit  of  present  and  future  generations, 
a  better  motive  and  a  higher  fame  than  the  brief  possession  of 
the  few  hundred  thousand  dollars  which  are  necessary  for  it. 
I  would  not  have  him  underrate  the  cost  of  such  an  institu- 
tion. I  do  not  think  less  than  four  hundred  thousand  dollars 
would  suitably  accomplish  it — one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
for  the  ground  and  the  building,  an  equal  amount  for  the 
purchase  of  pictures  and  statuary,  and  a  hundred  thousand 
more  to  be  invested  to  meet  its  annual  wants.  There  are  men 
enough  in  this  city  whose  fortunes  would  not  be  incon- 
veniently diminished  by  such  a  contribution,  who  may,  in  a 
year,  or  a  month,  in  the  order  of  human  life,  be  summoned  to 
surrender  all  they  possess  into  the  hands  of  those  who  do  not 
need  it,  or  by  whom  it  may  be  uselessly  employed.  I  believe 
no  higher  niche  remains  to  be  filled  in  the  temple  of  our  city's 
fame  than  this — no  work,  by  which  a  man  may  more  certainly 
inscribe  his  name  upon  its  loftiest  pediment — there  to  stand 
until  the  last  column  which  sustains  it,  shall  crumble  into 
dust. 

It  is  in  establishments  and  institutions  like  these  that  the 
munificence  of  Kepublics  and  Republicans  is  best  displayed. 
While  all  individual  profusion  is  at  war  with  the  spirit  of  the 
system  under  which  we  live,  and  can  only  bring  with  it  un- 
mixed evil,  public  institutions  for  the  elevation  of  industry 
and  the  perfection  of  art — institutions  in  which  all  can  meet 
on  the  footing  of  equality  inherent  in  our  political  organiza- 
tion— are  at  once  the  conservative  agencies  and  the  glory  of 
free  governments. 

But  it  is  time  for  me  to  return  to  a  topic,  to  which  I  briefly 
alluded  at  the  commencement  of  my  remarks.  I  mean  the 
necessity  of  a  practical  conformity  of  the  social  movement  to 
the  principles  on  which  the  political  organization  is  founded. 
I  believe  there  is  only  one  condition  to  be  fulfilled  in  order  to 
ensure  for  our  system  of  government  all  the  stability  of  which 
human  institutions  are  capable.  It  must  be  carried  out  in  the 
spirit  in  which  it  was  created.  Society  must  not  set  up  dis- 
tinctions unknown  to  the  system  itself,  and  give  them,  by 

2 


18 


habit  or  conventional  sanctions,  an  influence  at  war  with  it, 
We  must  not  weaken  what  was  designed  to  be  secure,  or  in- 
troduce what  was  designed  to  be  excluded. 

And  1st,  let  it  be  distinctly  understood,  that  the  law  must 
be  inflexibly  maintained.  I  use  the  term  law  in  its  largest 
sense,  not  only  as  including  what  has  been  specifically  decreed, 
but  as  comprehending  the  general  order,  on  the  preservation 
of  which  the  inviolability  of  all  public  authority  depends. 
The  law  is  the  will  of  the  people  constitutionally  expressed. 
Whoever  arrays  himself  against  it,  excepting  to  procure  its 
repeal  in  the  mode  prescribed  by  the  fundamental  compact, 
commits  an  act  of  treachery  to  the  people  themselves.  The 
law  is  the  basis  of  all  popular  supremacy.  It  is  the  very  fea- 
ture by  which  free  government  is  distinguished  from  despot- 
ism. To  uphold  it  is  one  of  the  highest  duties  which  is  de- 
volved on  us  as  freemen.  It  is  always  possible  that  those  who 
are  intrusted  with  its  execution,  may  err  in  the  performance 
of  their  duty.  They  may  employ  unnecessary,  arbitrary,  or 
even  wanton  severity  in  enforcing  it.  For  all  this  they  may 
be  held  to  a  rigid  account.  But  no  error  in  the  execution  can 
impair  the  obligation  to  uphold  it.  It  must  be  understood, 
and  without  reservation,  that  the  law  is  to  be  inflexibly  main- 
tained. 

2d.  Kindred  to  the  inviolability  of  the  law,  is  the  inviola- 
bility of  rights  of  property.  Under  our  system  of  government 
life  is  always  secure,  except  from  private  passion,  hatred  and 
revenge,  and  these  the  law  visits  with  a  retribution  which 
many  regard  as  incompatible  with  the  humanity  of  the  age. 
The  inviolability  of  private  property  rests  upon  the  same  basis 
as  security  to  life.  It  is  one  of  the  leading  objects  of  all  social 
compacts.  Life,  liberty,  property — security  to  those  is  the 
great  end  for  which  men  enter  into  society.  We  believe  it 
to  be  prejudicial  to  the  general  interest  that  property  shall  be 
kept  in  masses  by  the  operation  of  law.  We  have  declared 
that  children,  in  cases  of  intestacy,  shall  inherit  equally.  We 
believe  that  accumulations  of  wealth  should  not  be  made  per- 
manent. We  have  abolished  entails.  We  believe  that  the 
distribution  of  property  should  not  be  unduly  restricted.  We 
have  provided  that  the  absolute  power  of  alienation  shall  not 


19 


be  suspended  beyond  the  period  of  two  lives  in  being  at  the 
creation  of  the  state.  All  these  provisions  are  designed  to 
distribute  as  soon  as  possible,  without  discouraging  individual 
enterprise  and  industry,  accumulations  of  property,  which  su- 
perior sagacity,  good  fortune  or  accident,  has  created.  None 
of  these  restrictions  are  invasions  of  the  rights  which  social 
compacts  are  designed  to  secure.  We  may  go  farther,  and  as- 
sign limits  to  future  accumulation  or  to  the  investment  of  the 
proceeds  of  industry  in  particular  objects.  These  are  ques- 
tions of  practical  wisdom  and  policy,  which  may  be  fairly  set- 
tled by  reference  to  their  probable  influence  upon  the  general 
interest  and  prosperity.  But  any  regulation,  which  has  the 
effect  of  rendering  an  existing  tenure  insecure  or  worthless,  is 
a  direct  violation  of  one  of  the  great  purposes,  for  which  we 
entered  into  society,  and  must  weaken  the  security  of  liberty 
and  life,  by  impairing  the  fundamental  obligations  by  which 
all  are  supported.  This  is  a  question  in  which  the  many  have 
a  far  deeper  interest  than  the  few.  The  tens  of  millions  which 
are  held  by  large  proprietors,  are  as  nothing  in  comparison 
with  the  hundreds  of  millions  distributed  in  smaller  portions 
among  the  great  body  of  people.  The  security  of  all  must 
stand  or  fall  together. 

3d.  The  different  members  of  the  general  society,  must  un- 
derstand and  be  willing  to  do  justice  to  each  other.  External 
forms  of  organization,  rules  of  political  conduct,  do  much.  But 
the  internal  spirit  which  animates  the  system  and  imparts  its 
vital  powers,  must  be  in  harmony  with  its  formal  constitution, 
in  order  that  its  movements  may  meet  with  no  interruption  or 
shock  from  the  antagonism  of  the  elements  of  which  it  is  com- 
posed. One  of  the  theories  of  our  government  is,  that  all  are 
politically  equal.  We  have  reduced  the  theory  to  practice  by 
making  suffrage  universal,  and  public  employments  and  honors 
accessible  to  all.  Let  us  forbear  to  set  up  social  distinctions, 
which  may  practically  affect,  though  certainly  to  a  limited  ex- 
tent, what  political  distinctions  produce  in  other  countries.  Let 
us  avoid,  as  far  as  in  us  lies,  all  which  tends  to  divide  society 
into  classes — for  all  such  divisions  imply  diversity  of  inter- 
ests, and  almost  always  produce  isolation.  Social  distinctions 
must  of  necessity  be,  in  the  highest  degree,  evanescent  with 


20 


us.  We  have  neither  orders  of  nobility  nor  permanent  estates 
to  sustain  or  perpetuate  them.  They  rest  almost  exclusively 
upon  commercial  wealth,  and  they  partake  of  its  vicissitudes 
and  its  instability.  To  seek  to  found  distinctions  upon  wealth 
alone,  where  accumulations  of  property  are  so  transient,  is  not 
only  vainly  attempting  what  is  unattainable,  but  its  tendency 
is  to  make  wealth  the  object  of  pernicious  jealousies,  and  thus 
to  inflict  upon  society  a  great  public  evil.  Absolute  equality 
in  the  possession  of  property,  as  a  practical  condition  of  life,  is 
but  the  dream  of  the  enthusiast.  Nature  has  so  pronounced 
it  by  endowing  her  children  unequally.  But  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  all  the  comforts  of  life,  and  in  the  means  of  satisfying 
all  our  necessary  wants,  the  condition  of  men  approaches  much 
nearer  to  equality  than  is  generally  supposed.  We  rarely 
consider  how  little  is  needed  where  there  are  no  artificial  wants 
to  disquiet  us — how  much  is  required  in  circles  where  conven- 
tional exactions  are  the  rule  of  expenditure.  Misunderstand- 
ing on  this  subject — ignorance,  on  the  part  of  one  portion  of 
the  community,  of  the  objects,  desires  and  wants  of  other  por- 
tions, lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  the  jealousies  which  exist 
between  those  whose  condition  is  unequal.  This  misunder- 
standing should  becorrected — these  jealousies  removed  ;  and 
he  who,  instead  of  contributing  to  objects  of  such  vital  im- 
portance, shall  attempt  to  excite  in  one  portion  of  the  commu- 
nity prejudices  against  another,  should  be  ranked  among  the 
most  dangerous  enemies  of  the  republic. 

I  have  already  spoken  of  divisions  into  classes  as  undesi- 
rable and  pernicious  in  their  tendency.  They  carry  with  them 
the  idea  of  opposite  interests.  Dissociation,  separate  action, 
alienation,  jealousy,  unkindness,  opposition,  hatred,  collision; 
these  are  the  steps  by  which  their  progress  to  maturity  is  to 
be  traced  in  other  countries-  Let  us,  then,  regard  each  other 
as  members  of  a  single  association,  standing  in  the  same  rela- 
tion to  the  system,  of  which  we  are  a  part,  and  having  none 
but  common  interests-  Let  him  who  has  little  property,  con- 
sider that  those  who  possess  it,  take  with  it  burdens  and  re- 
sponsibilities from  which  he  himself  is  exempt, — that  they 
contribute,  in  proportion  to  their  possessions,  to  the  public  ex- 
penditure, that  their  anxieties  are  increased,  and  that  great 


21 


wealth,  as  the  experience  of  all  ages  attests,  does  not  contribute 
to  augment  the  sum  of  human  happiness.  On  the  other  hand, 
let  those  who  have  much,  consider  that  much  is  required  of 
them, — that  their  possessions  are  a  sacred  trust  which  will  be 
best  fulfilled  by  a  liberal  and  confiding  regard  for  those,  whom 
fortune  has  less  highly  favored.  In  a  word,  gentlemen,  sym- 
pathy and  fraternal  feeling  must  take  the  place  of  indifference 
and  distrust  in  the  intercourse  of  those  whose  condition  is 
unequal.  Organize  society  as  you  will,  however  correct  }-our 
formulas,  or  however  wisely  adjusted  the  different  parts  of 
the  system,  you  cannot  make  it  independent  of  the  passions 
and  affections  of  men.  It  is  by  enlightening  and  purifying 
these  that  the  great  ends  of  society  are  to  be  wrought  out. 

And  finally,  fellow  citizens,  let  us  bear  ever  in  remem- 
brance, as  a  motive  to  the  fulfilment  of  our  social  obligations, 
that  we  stand  before  the  world  as  the  chief  representatives  of 
free  institutions.  The  great  features  of  this  continent  seem  to 
mark  it  out  for  the  accomplishment  of  labors  and  destinies  of 
corresponding  magnitude — the  Mississippi  pouring  into  the 
ocean  the  majestic  current  it  has  accumulated  in  its  course  of 
three  thousand  miles — the  Niagara,  collecting  the  waters  of  an 
inland  Sea,  and  precipitating  them  into  another  in  a  cataract 
of  gigantic  volume  and  Herculean  power — the  Rocky  Moun- 
tain chain,  pushing  up  its  snowy  summits  to  the  heavens,  with 
its  deep  indentation  cut  down  to  its  base,  and  indicating  a 
design  as  palpable  as  if  the  Omniscient  Power  that  created  it 
had  said,  "  Through  this  pass  thousands  of  years  hence,  the 
railway  which  is  to  unite  the  Columbia  River  with  the  Hudson, 
shall  bear  the  burdens  of  associated  continents  and  oceans. ' 
A  county  thus  strongly  marked  in  its  physical  lineaments,  is 
a  fit  theatre  for  the  great  experiment  we  are  making  of  the 
competency  of  mankind  to  self-government,  and  for  the  social 
developments  which  are  in  progress  here  on  so  vast  a  scale. 

This  city,  as  the  metropolis  of  such  a  country,  should  cor- 
respond with  it  in  the  magnitude  of  its  improvements.  Though 
yet  in  its  infancy,  it  has  proved  itself,  in  all  it  has  done,  not 
unworthy  of  the  distinction.  Pere  La  Chaise  sinks  into  insig- 
nificance when  contrasted  with  the  sylvan  grandeur  of  Green- 
wood.   The  aqueduct  which  conveys  the  Croton  River  across 


22 


the  Harlem,  compares  well  in  the  solidity  and  beauty  of  its 
architecture  with  the  kindred  work  spanning  the  Valley  of 
Alcantara,  or  with  those  magnificent  structures,  which,  after 
the  lapse  of  two  thousand  years,  though  now  falling  into 
rains,  still  stretch  across  the  Campagna,  and  by  the  agency  of 
which,  Imperial  Rome  was  perpetually  refreshed  by  the  pure 
waters  of  her  distant  hills. 

For  what  remains  to  be  done — for  popular  institutions,  on 
;t  scale  so  broad  as  to  embrace  her  whole  population,  and  to 
endow  all  with  the  capacities  necessary  for  the  discharge  of 
their  social  and  political  duties — for  the  facilities  which  her 
industrious  classes  require  to  prepare  them  for  the  exercise  of 
t  heir  various  avocations — for  the  depositories  of  art,  and  the 
elementary  training  which  are  needed  to  call  out  genius  and  to 
refine  the  public  taste — she  must  look  to  her  commercial 
wealth.  Her  mercantile  men  have  a  reputation  as  wide  as  the 
world  itself  for  their  activity,  the  grasp  of  their  enterprise,  and 
their  fidelity  to  their  pecuniary  engagements.  Under  their 
influence,  aided  by  the  unrivalled  energy  and  skill  of  her 
ship-builders,  her  commerce  has  been  pushed  to  the  very  con- 
fines of  the  habitable  globe.  Neither  equatorial  heat,  nor 
polar  frosts,  nor  barbarism,  nor  the  conflicts  of  civilized  races, 
have  constituted  an  impediment  to  the  execution  of  their  com- 
mercial adventures.  In  the  beauty,  the  speed  and  the  internal 
arrangements  of  their  ships  they  have  left  all  rivals  at  an  im- 
measurable distance  behind.  They  have  accomplished  all  this 
by  their  own  unassisted  energies.  They  have  not,  like  the 
mercantile  classes  of  England,  been  aided  by  a  direct  trade 
with  extensive  colonial  dependencies,  from  which,  until  a  very 
recent  day,  other  nations  were  shut  out.  They  have  cast  them* 
selves  upon  the  ocean,  self-reliant  and  fearless,  and  entered 
into  triumphant  competition  with  the  whole  commercial  world. 
Their  boldness,  their  perseverance,  and  their  success  have  con- 
tributed, in  an  eminent  degree,  to  the  practical  vindication  of 
the  great  element  of  freedom,  as  the  true  basis  of  international 
communications  and  exchanges,  and  have  had  a  powerful 
agency  in  compelling  other  nations  to  relax  the  rigor  of  their 
commercial  systems.  One  more  great  truth  remains  to  be  as- 
serted and  verified  by  a  stern  adherence  to  the  fundamental 


principles  of  our  institutions  in  their  social  as  well  as  their 
political  requirements — a  truth  to  which  we  should  cling  with 
undying  faith — that  extended  commerce,  social  refinement  and 
accumulated  wealth,  are  perfectly  compatible  with  public 
order,  domestic  purity  and  national  strength. 


When  you  leave,  please  leave  this  hook 

Because  it  has  heen  said 
"Sver'thincj  comes  t'  him  who  waits 

Except  a  loaned  hook." 


Avery  Architectural  and  Fine  Arts  Library 
Gift  of  Seymour  B.  Durst  Old  York  Library 


